


Stiff Upper Lip

by AlexanderT_Writes



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Cap has sensory overload, Sensory Overload, alison helps him bc she’s amazing, alison is a legend, author is someone who stims, but it has a nice ending, cap stims (called fidgeting in this fic bc he doesn’t know the word stim), there’s also a bit of capvers mentioned, yes it’s angsty, yes this is me projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27190607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexanderT_Writes/pseuds/AlexanderT_Writes
Summary: The Captain has everything going wrong at the minute, and it all crashes down on him at once.
Relationships: The Captain/Lieutenant Havers (mentioned)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 99





	Stiff Upper Lip

**Author's Note:**

> Posting another fic? The day after I just posted one? And it’s about the Captain again? Absolutely! 
> 
> I’ve always had the HC that Cap stims and I very much felt the need to write this because of it.  
> Enjoy!

Everything had been piling up on the Captain recently: Mike kept accidentally passing through him (through no fault of his own, he couldn’t exactly tell when the Captain was there), the other ghosts simply refused to shut up half the time, and his memories of Havers kept cropping up. The swirling mix of physical discomfort and stress had been pressing down on him for days now, crushing the Captain until he was at the end of his emotional tether. 

Alison had just come back from her reunion with her old school. Apparently it had gone quite well, and whoever is was that Mike had been so anxious about was rather calm the entire time.  
Of course, the ghosts wanted to know what it was like the moment she came through the door. 

“Anyone become poorer?” Fanny asked first.  
“Well, Mike and I, obviously. Everyone else who went to the reunion is somewhere between broke and married to a rich husband.”  
“Can anyone else see ghosts like you do?” Pat piped up.  
“If anyone could they never said anything - it’s not as if I did either. There was a guy who talked a lot about army stuff,” added Alison, looking to the Captain. “Really nice guy, talked a lot about Enfield Number Two revolvers. I don’t know if that rings a bell for you?” 

The Captain would’ve usually perked up at the mention of a standard issue firearm, but he just nodded with a plastered on smile. The sound was all a little to much at the moment, as the floorboards creaked under Mike’s step as he made his way past. He would’ve flinched if he had let himself. Instead he straightened himself up as much as possible. 

“Oh, were there any sweet eligible men?” Kitty asked. More excited voices clamoured after hers.  
“Any sweet eligible women?”  
“Anyone become astronaut?”  
“Any saucy stories-“ 

The Captain felt as though his head would shatter into pieces. The voices of the other ghosts echoed; there was too much colour; everything was attacking his senses at once. His uniform was too tight for the first time in his death. He felt as though he had run to France and back during the wartime, with the way his shoulders felt heavy and his muscles ached. The fuzziness behind his eyes worsened. 

The sensations were too much; he turned heel and left, hands ridged and clammy against his swagger stick as his head swam. The urge to shake or rock back and forth or just say words hit him. He had felt it before but this- this /sensory overload/ made it so much worse. It was as though without doing them we would fall apart completely. 

After ascending the staircase, reaching his room, and fading through the shut door, the Captain finally allowed himself to break. He sat on the bed and rocked himself, forwards and backwards, shivering. His jaw was locked in place as he gently moved, back and forth, panic not wavering until the quiet of the room began to wash over him. His fingers dug into his shoulders, applying pressure to himself. 

A knock on the door startled him, and he immediately straightened up. Still. Not a muscle moved, not a nerve twitched. His hands pressed against his swagger stick on his lap. 

“Captain? Are you alright?” It was Alison. A bit of warmth spread through the ghost before panic settled in again. 

“Yes, yes, positively fine. No need to worry, just wanted to er... stretch. My rigorous schedule waits for no man!” 

Alison, despite not saying anything, sounded unconvinced. 

“I’m coming in.” 

She opened the door to see the Captain sat rigidly on the end of the bed. His hands shook slightly even as he tried to still them. His eyes looked wide and panicked. She sat down next to him, about to place a comforting palm on his shoulders before realising she couldn’t.  
And so she sat and spoke. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? You can tell me.” 

“I said I’m fine,” the Captain snapped, turning his head to look Alison in the eye. “I-I-I want you to leave.” He pointed his swagger stick to the door. 

Alison’s gaze softened and something in the Captain began to break. He rubbed one hand underneath his eyes to try and refrain from letting them water. It didn’t work, yet he still refused to give up the fight against the tears. 

“I said leave.” His attempt at sounding commanding didn’t work - his voice shook too much. Alison kept level with his wavering stare. 

“It’s okay. Just talk to me,” she insisted gently. A flash of a memory of Havers hit him; his Lieutenant’s soft gaze meeting his as he said we was leaving Button House - as he said he was leaving him. 

The tears won, spilling down the Captain’s cheeks as he doubled over and let out a pained sob. He would’ve slapped himself for this show of unsightly emotion if his hands didn’t curl over his swagger stick instinctively. His body visibly tensed as he forced himself to be still. Crying was embarrassing and uncalled for enough without his incessant fidgeting. 

“The noise,” he croaked. “The godforsaken noise. The creaking, the talking, the shouting. It’s too much.” 

Alison stayed quiet, wishing she could offer a comforting touch. Instead, opted for the next best thing: she grabbed a crumpled piece of paper and pen from out of her pocket and quietly scribbled down a few words, then placed it on the bed beside her and tapped it. The Captain looked up and read the note. 

_‘You can fidget. It’s OK.’ ___

__That just made him cry more._ _

__However, with permission granted (permission he really should not have felt he had to wait for), the Captain began to rock himself and cover his ears with his hands to block out everything else and tap his head as and when he had to. His sobs began to die down, lowering from an agonising cry to just tear-stained cheeks after a few minutes. He uncovered his ears and looked at Alison._ _

__“Thank you,” he choked out. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Thank you.”_ _

__“If you ever get overwhelmed again, you can always just leave. No one is going to judge you - you do what works for you.”_ _

__The Captain nodded, softly thumping his palm against his chest in time with what would’ve been a heartbeat, if he was still alive._ _

__“Alison, I-“ He cut himself off, not sure how to continue. “I am eternally grateful for this.”_ _

__The woman smiled and nodded, standing up._ _

__“I’ll let you calm down some more. Join us when you’re ready, we’ll be watching Top Gun. Pat loves that movie.” And with that, Alison left._ _

__The Captain ran his hands through the shaved hair on the back of his head. ‘Just like how Havers used to,’ he thought. He cleared his mind and breathed out deeply. His muscles relaxed. His jaw unlocked. The fuzziness behind his eyes left._ _

__Everything would be alright._ _


End file.
